Time Flies Too Fast
by OutCold
Summary: The outtakes, extended extracts and extras excluded while writing Time Flies. Basically anything that happened during or around the week of Time Flies. Drabbles and oneshots. T for only a couple of chapters that I provide warning in the A/Ns
1. Lucas And Language

_A/N: I made it my task to make this _exactly_ a drabble. After the Author's Notes there are 100 words._

_A/N2: This takes place during the Time Flies chapter "And A Hazelnut"._

_A/N3: The languages used are; Polish, German, Spanish and English (I think), and Lucas-can't-pronouce-ish_

_-----_

Lucas walked up to the counter, "Hola, uh, können wir..." Tash sniggered. "Dwa, er, KAWA! Sorry, oznaczam... Dwa kawa with, er, dody-at-kowy strizelony... of, um... Anyone know what "of" is?"

Jamey grinned at Tash , winking, "Van."

"Knew t'was summit like that." Lucas returned to the clerk, who with great difficulty seemed to be keeping a straight face, "... van, um... Expresso's just expresso, isn't it?... van expresso... Please?"

McGee noticing the struggle and laughter of the two girls leant over the counter. "Two coffees with an additional shot of expresso."

"Yes, sir." The English clerk turned away. Lucas groaned.


	2. Stench In The Stables

_A/N: Warning, there are some rather graphic descriptions of rotting bodies in this. I think this is probably a T._

_A/N2: Also provides a couple of small insights into Lucas' character and past_

It was two hours since the plane had landed, and as everyone else headed to the clubs to wrangle an explanation out of the Old Team, Lucas had slipped off-there were so many of them, he doubted he would be missed- to hire himself a horse. On his way to the large stables, where he planned on renting himself a prime thoroughbred, he passed a grotty looking stable, that by all rights, shouldn't have existed. He stopped, swinging his leg off his bike, and walked up the drive. The place seemed deserted, silent, other than scuffling sound of a large animal moving slowly. Lucas picked his way through a vile pit of animal waste that filled the drive, to the door of a brick house. After calling out with no answer, Lucas removed his phone from his pocket, and pressed the first number on his speed dial.

"Tommy, I need some advice, and backup."

Three minutes later, Lucas found himself picking his way through thick mud and waste in the direction of the stables. As he reached them a putrid, rotten smell hit every orifice he had, the dense air seeped through his pores, every opening. Lucas was reminded terrible of the last time he had smelt the decaying odour. He had been at a dog breeder's in Britain. His automatic reaction that first time had been to puke up the little he had in his stomach onto the woman who had been with him, this time, he controlled the impulse, continuing his wade.

Lucas reached the first wooden stable door, and, attempting not to take the automatic deep breath in, opened it. As the stench wafted at him, he gave way to the urge and emptied a slice of lemon drizzle and poppy seed cake and McGee's apple pie onto the blood shod ground. In the corner, what had probably once been an Exmoor or Norwegian Fjord Pony lay. The skin hung lank, but for the tiny moving lumps that it was riddled with, flies working hard at stripping the beast clean, bones shone red in the setting sun, and a half-destroyed glassy eye stared at him. Lucas' skin crawled. Someone had left this animal to die. Closing his eyes tightly, before shaking his head in an attempt to shake off the image, he turned and left the stable.

Moving on down, Lucas realised the full extent of what had happened here. He couldn't understand it though. Many of the animals had, despite the damage decay had caused, obviously been maltreated. The owner had bought these animals, beat them, and then left them in small rooms to die.

Lucas was nearing the end of the stalls when he heard a faint noise again, at one of the stables he had already checked. Running down, ignoring the amount of shit, blood and puke that he was covered in, he pushed open the door of the third booth from the start. Inside lay what Lucas thought might be a Welsh Cob-in its current state he could not tell if it was thoroughbred or not- barely moving, hardly breathing, she was scarcely alive. Once again, he removed his phone.

"Tommy, call them. I have what I think is a Welsh Cob, she's in some state, but she's still got a little fat on her. Get 'em down here..."

Lucas left the stall to keep an eye out for the volunteers but before he left he spotted a dirty sign above her door. He read it softly, out loud.

"Neptune." Lucas wasn't usually a believer in fate, but even he found this too much of a coincidence.

-----

Lucas stood arguing with the man at the desk, a day later, who was "just doing his job". "Come on. Look, the owner of that place had imported them all from the US, illegally, they haven't had a thingy period, quarantine, to be in Poland, I have jurisdiction... Give me a week and she'll be out of the country and in quarantine in the US... I'm a member of," Lucas flipped out his wallet and flicked through membership cards, "the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals International, volunteer and professional, the World Society for the Protection of Animals, the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and the Animal Victims Rehabilitation Society International and a degree in veterinary equine medicine. Actually, yes, the rehabilitation society, she was pronounced terrified, but... I'm in the rehab society, she's fit to be taken to America, and I'll travel every step with her. I swear..."

The man who Lucas had phoned the day before, Tommy Siebert, walked in, shaking hands with the man behind the counter, before passing over a series of documents. "I advise you two get to work on these."

Lucas flashed a grateful grin at his former colleague, "Danke."

Tommy smiled back, "I drove over from Germany to do this, and you know what, Himmelwanderer?"

"You still haven't worked out how to say "Skywalker" in German?"

"No. I still owe you."

Lucas shook his head guiltily, and turned to the papers. "I don't want to be owed for that, Tom."

Twenty-four hours later, Lucas, his 1000PLN ($350) horse box, 350PLN worth of horse feed, a kit to deal with the veterinary side of things and Neptune left the rescue shelter, for Lucas' chosen stable, that had quarantine facilities and wouldn't grudge his arriving at midnight if the need arose.


	3. Rule 1, Or Rule 1?

_This happens while the rest of the team are covering Ziva and Gibbs, and twenty-four hours after that._

_Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or any of _its_ characters._

Violet Tomlin, the Director of the Gdynia NCIS, originally from Chicago, poked her head out of her office, "Special Agent McGee?"

McGee's head snapped round, "Yes?"

"Director Vance called. He says if you're not on a plane in the next half hour, you're out of a job."

McGee grabbed his stuff, "Lucas, I want a phone call if there are anymore developments."

"But, Boss, we're off after Zee-"

McGee looked like his panicked younger self, at the same time as keeping some of his "Boss" persona in the voice, "Logan, I am aware of that, now tell Tony, something's cropped up in Washington and I needed to get back."

Lucas and McGee were the only ones left in the bullpen, therefore Lucas felt that this was an excellent opportunity to goad his boss, and though many people wouldn't realise it from their working relationship, friend. He cackled, "Oh my great Director, you forgot about Sophie's birthday party, didn't you?"

McGee rounded on Lucas, "You knew!"

"You knew too." Lucas came up on the defensive.

"You knew the whole week, and you didn't _once_ remind me. What's Rule 1, Skywalker?"

"Never let suspects stay together, Elf lord?"

McGee shook his head confused. "Gibbs should have written these down, the other Rule 1!?"

"Oh, uh, never screw over your partner." Lucas said confidently. "The only thing is, Bossy Boots, You're not _really_ my partner anymore. You're my boss. That makes the rule: Never screw over Tash or Jamey."

Lucas grinned. McGee sighed, "Okay, I'll start my own set, Rule 1: Never let your boss forget his goddaughter's birthday party that he could lose his job for missing."

"Yessir." Lucas saluted, "We should probably head to our respective 'I need to save my job' zones."

"We probably should, good point." McGee strode off pulling out his phone. "I need a really fast plane to Washington, and I need it to be ASAP. Money no object."

-----

The world's most jetlagged NCIS agent staggered into the Vance's household. It was crammed full of screaming children, one barrelled into McGee's legs, "Tim-o-tee!"

He picked up the child, ignoring the screaming in his head of, _SLEEP, YOU IDIOT, SLEEP!_, and swung her round, "Hey, Sophe."

"Presents?" The little girl's dark brown eyes widened as he put her down. McGee smiled down on her.

He pulled a wrapped box from under his jacket, as Leon walked through, "I didn't think you'd make it, Tim."

"Neither did I."

"You look awful," Leon remarked, but he was smiling as he watched his kid run off to open her present. "What did you get her?"

McGee tapped his nose infuriatingly.


End file.
